Only Son
by MaliciousKiller
Summary: His own childhood is a secret kept from him, a secret even his sisters don't know. He is destined to wreak havoc amongst the Non-Pure, but how did he become this way? Romance, Murder, his entire life a lie. Alexander Cygnus Black. Blood Killer.


**Alexander's my made up character from RP. I created him from scratch and have role played him for pretty much 2 years or so now. He fits right in with TrappedLittlEm's Cassy who is his sister, along with Narcissa, Bellatrix, Andromeda and Phoenixa (****PecquiliaElizabeth). Imagine Gaspard Ulliel (yummmm =] ) growing up for his image.**

I don't remember being young. When I say young, I mean from under the age of 7. My sisters say they remember my birth, as do my parents, but I can't help wonder why there aren't any baby photos. When I really annoy Bellatrix or Cassiopeia (She'll always been Cassy in my mind though), they always snap that I'm adopted. They later retract these statements, especially when Mother hears. When she hears the word adopted, she goes _insane._

So we don't mention it.

I suppose I get on all my sisters' nerves quite often really.

I've noticed how much more attention I get from Father especially. He is always overjoyed to see his girls, but always more so when he sees me. I guess that I'm the only boy among 3 sisters, so he must be pretty happy to have some male company.

I love my Father, very much. He's always showering me with gifts, unusual and exquisite. Sometimes, he goes away for long trips and comes back weary, but pleased to see us. I've heard stories about men beating their wives, but not my Father. He's loyal and loving towards Mother, no matter how restless she is. I know they fight, but my Father remains calm.

He gave me a dagger once, you know. It had my name engraved on the handle and I pricked my finger on the tip. I flashed it around, pleased with myself. Narcissa cooed over me, the ever adoring and loving sister, whereas Bellatrix rolled her eyes. Cassy simply complimented it once and showed no further interest.

I was given that dagger upon my 10th birthday. Growing up, my days became lonely. All my sisters were off at this Hogwarts place which Father usually spoke highly of. Mother took their absence as a welcome break and was usually sitting on the sofa with a book in front of the fire, with Father in his armchair with a cigar and brandy.

I made friends with some of the village children, until my 10th birthday. Father no longer retired to his chair during the day. Instead, he taught me things. He took me out to our forest and showed me magic. I was in awe of his capabilities and powers. He told me that he would teach me all of this soon enough, but first I should be good with my hands. Every second evening, he brought in an animal. The first night he did, it was a rat. He showed me which parts of the body were more susceptible to pain and where you were stab to make them die instantly. Gradually, the animals got bigger and bigger until that night.

It was almost Christmas when he brought it in. I heard screams, male screams that weren't my Father's, and looked at Mother, confused. Mother ignored my confusion and ordered the House Elf to go aid him. She was rooting through my wardrobe, trying to make sense of my clothing. I sat on my bed, blowing upwards at my dark brown hair. I wanted to go out and play with my friends, but knew that I wouldn't be allowed to. My parents had something against my village friends.

"Alexander!" Came the loud booming voice from the bottom of the stairs. I jumped up and ran to the marble staircase. My Father stood at the bottom, smirking. He gestured for me to follow him and I did, right down into the basement. I was not normally allowed to come down here and was, at first, overwhelmed by the foul stench of blood and... death.

I felt slightly scared, hearing muffled screams in the dark. My Father switched on the light and smiled reassuringly at me. I looked around the basement. It was huge, as was the house, and filled with Cells, a desk in one corner, nasty, blood stained tools hanging all over the walls and a blood stained table with a man tied to it. He was naked with no modesty at all, aside from the gag tied around his head. I stood there, frozen. This was no ordinary sight for a 10 year old to view.

My Father clapped me on the back and grinned widely.

"Alexander, its time you learnt the family trade." He chuckled. I looked up at him, wide eyed. I didn't understand.

"What? You think we made our fortune by sitting on our arses?" His laughter echoed through the basement. He looked seriously now at me, his going grey hair falling down his face as he looked at him through dark eyes.

"We kill Filth, Alexander. Beings who are not worthy of possessing magical powers." He told me, his voice strained slightly. He seemed angered even at the mention of Filth.

"Filth?" I asked timidly.

"Filth are vermin, Alexander. They need to be exterminated." My Father stabbed the air with his finger, pointing at the man on the table. "He is a half blood. Filth!" He growled, standing up and walking over to the desk. I followed behind him, shrinking behind my Father's height and bulk.

"Filth!" he screamed at the man, spitting in his face. The man started crying and my Father hit him across the face.

"Filth are half-bloods, mudbloods, squibs and half-breeds." My Father looked down at me now and I gazed back up at him with my deep brown eyes. This was so confusing. "And we kill them." He added.

Realisation hit me. My Father was going to kill this man. But... that was wrong! Wasn't it? Or maybe this so-called Filth deserved it.

Father, seeming to have read my thoughts, explained further;

"Only the Pure should have magical powers. Those who marry out of the true magical families to Muggles are betraying us. These people, Alexander, betray us! They are no good! They are worse than the maggots that infest rotting flesh!" My Father's words hit home. Muggles I have always hated. They were disgusting and smelly with their non-magical stupidity. I hated dealing with dumb people and they were the worst. If what my Father said was true, and I didn't doubt that; I always believed him, then these people were stupid and deserved to die.

But my small, childlike voice spoke:

"What are you doing to do to him Father?" My Father turned and looked at me. A smile broke out across his face.

"I'm going to tell you what to do, but you're going to do it, Alexander." His cheeks were flushing with pride already and I knew, I could **not **and would **not** let him down. I nodded slowly up at him.

"Tell me,"

-0-0-

June 7th; I received a letter on my 11th birthday. My Father almost jumped for joy as he pulled Mother into his Drawing Room so I could read the letter out to them. As I opened the letter, Father snatched it from me suddenly and read it over quickly. I raised an eyebrow at him as he handed it back to me,

"Just checking," He smiled and winked at me. I thought that this was just him double checking, but I pushed the thoughts aside and read it out proudly to them. I was crushed into hugs and my Mother wrote a letter to my sisters who were already in Hogwarts. As I was almost 7 years younger than Bellatrix, 6 years younger than Narcissa and 4 years younger than Cassy, I was only going to be at school with Narcissa and Cassy. Bellatrix was going off to join some group as far as I understood and Narcissa would be entering her final year. Cassy would only have 2 years left, but I didn't care. I'd gotten in and my parents were pleased.

Once my sisters came back from Hogwarts for the summer, they started teaching me simple magic and telling me stories about Ghosts and the Forbidden Forest. I was overly intrigued and felt like a small child again, getting stories before bed time.

Mother took me shopping with Narcissa and Cassy to get my uniform, wand, books and owl. Narcissa was going mad with the camera, taking pictures of me trying my uniform on for the first time and looking bemused as I broke all of the Wand Maker's lights and ruined his displays when getting my first wand. It was all on Father's instructions of course. He had to go on a trip at the last minute and wanted every detail of his only son's school days recorded. I felt honoured.

But nothing could prepare me for Hogwarts.

**I have heard people say it's a bit extreme for a young boy to experience someone being killed at the age of ten, but if you think that, then read about the Serial Killer nicknamed the Night Stalker, otherwise known as Richard Ramirez who saw his cousin, Miguel kill his wife at age 13. Later in life, he was put on death row, convicted of killing over 13 people in their sleep.**


End file.
